


strategy

by lovelylogans



Series: tumblr fics [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Post-Can lying be good?, Tension, unsympathetic dark sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: If someone took barely a glance at the mindscape, it could almost be perceived as a normal day.





	strategy

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this right after "can lying be good?" came out.

If someone took barely a glance at the mindscape, it could almost be perceived as a normal day.

Patton was at the counter, mixing something for some delicious baked good. Logan was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by books, Roman sitting opposite him, sharpening his sword and whistling a Disney song. Virgil, perched on the counter, eyes carefully tracking Roman’s constant movements, straying occasionally to look at Patton or Logan.

If someone took a closer glance, they would notice Virgil’s white-knuckled grip on his own hoodie. That Patton was mixing his batter far beyond the point of necessity, movements jerky as Patton gnawed at his lip. The disheveled state of Logan’s hair, the messy notes beside him, the way he worried the corner of the page between his fingers. The song Roman was whistling was much slower than the original, like a dirge, the constant _snick-snick-snick_ of the whetstone providing an uneven kind of percussion.

_ [I’ve got no strings, to hold me down, to make me fret, or make me frown—](https://youtu.be/I1968HY4DKc?t=36s) _

_“Pinocchio,” _Virgil bit out, and everyone stilled as the tenuous peace broke. “Really? That’s the song stuck in our head today?”

“I don’t always _pick _it,” Roman snaps, own grip tightening at his sword, removing the whetstone from the blade. “Outside influence always—“

“It’s not outside,” Patton said, soft, not having turned from his bowl, and both Roman and Virgil glanced at his back, the line of Patton’s shoulders too high to sell that he wasn’t upset. 

Roman huffed out a breath. “Yes. Fine. _Insider_ influence always holds some sway.”

Virgil makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, foot thumping against a cabinet as he directed his glower out of the window.

Logan’s pen _scritch-scritched_ against the paper, hardly slowing his hand as he spoke. “We knew this day was coming.”

“Not so _soon,” _Roman said. “Not so well hidden.”

Virgil glanced over at Patton. “You really didn’t know anything was wrong?”

Patton shook his head. “I was just in my room,” he said, and then, “Hand me the nonstick sheet pan, kiddo, please.”

Virgil hopped off the counter and started clattering in the cabinet, perhaps a bit more than necessary, before handing Patton the necessary pan and hopping back onto the counter, arms crossing over his stomach. 

“Nothing?” Roman pressed. “Nothing at all?”

Patton shrugged, and admitted, “I was a bit busy thinking over the whole _lying_ thing. I didn’t realize you all had—met up.”

“The last time, they took advantage of us when we were separated,” Logan said. “Something we shall endeavor to do as little as possible. Of course, it’s impossible to stay together all the time—“

“They’re not all coming back right away,” Patton said, dumping out his batter perhaps a bit too quick, a splash landing on the counter. He grimaced at it.

“They will. They _have.”_ Roman said, trading out his whetstone for polishing materials.

Logan’s grip tightened on the pen, and perhaps it was a squeeze too far, because the cheap pen snapped in his hand. Logan closed his eyes, let out a forceful huff of air through his nose, and conjured a new one, tossing the broken one towards the other three he’d snapped.

“There are too many variables when it comes to them,” Logan said, voice purposefully calm. “We know their old tricks, of course. But they will have likely changed and grown as we have. Even in the space of the last year and a half, our development has been immense. We can assume that theirs likely has, as well. Therefore, we can make estimations and plans contingent upon their previous behaviors and habits, but they could be strategizing, too. Planning.”

“None of them can plan like you,” Patton said, firm, wiping up the spill with a paper towel. “We all have strengths that they don’t have—“

“And vice versa,” Logan said, terse. “These conflicts come down to force of will, an element of surprise, and...” His eyes went to Virgil, and then focused down on his page of notes. “These plans are inherently flawed. But we have no other basis to build our strategy from, so they will have to do.”

“A flawed idea is better than no idea at all,” Roman said, tilting his blade so it caught the light. “It can be improved upon later. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? First drafts. Hardly flawed.”

There was the soft clang of the oven door opening and closing, the soft thump of Patton depositing his oven mitts on the counter, and then a little grunt as Patton hopped up on the counter, keeping a careful amount of space between himself and Virgil, and Logan and Roman turned to more fully face the other two.

“So,” Logan said. “Objectively, there is very little we know about what they will do next.”

“Subjectively, we’re fucked,” Virgil said, under his breath, and for once, Patton didn’t scold him for the language.

“We can’t have that kind of attitude,” Roman said, flicking his hand in a weak approximation of his usual grandeur. 

“It’s my _thing,” _Virgil said.

“What, defeatism?” Roman said, angling a critical glance at Virgil, who glowered back at him. 

“Virgil’s no defeatist,” Logan said, edged on a sigh. 

“Tensions are going to rise,” Patton said, “but we have to stick together, okay? Logan’s right. Bad things happened when we separated.”

“If we stick together, we can’t lose,” Roman said, forcefully cheerful. 

“Exactly!” Patton said.

Logan and Virgil exchanged glances, and Logan scratched the tip of his pen absently over his paper, clearing his throat.

“So, of course, I have a relatively clear memory of what happened the last couple of times we... clashed, but there were, of course, moments I... was not physically present.”

The room went quiet again.

“There were moments that we all missed out on,” Patton said, faint. “As a matter of fact, you’ll have to catch me up on what he did, while I was gone. When he was pretending to be me.”

“Not much,” Logan said, listless. “He attempted to goad us into lies. There was a theatrical production. He attempted to goad us into more lies. The usual.”

“Theatrical production,” Patton murmured, glancing over, and Roman’s grip tightened on his sword’s handle before he smiled, sword flashing in the light.

“Well, at least I got to act with Thomas,” Roman said grandly. “The first of many phenomenal shows, I’m sure.”

“Roman,” Patton began, soft, and Roman said tightly, “We were talking strategy. Logan, what are your plans? Maybe we’ll have something to offer.”

Logan glanced at Roman, and straightened a pile of notes. “Perhaps it should wait until we have Patton’s food. It’ll be a long talk.”

“We’re in for a lot of long talks,” Virgil said, curling in tighter on himself.

“As long as we’re together,” Patton said, obstinate, and smiled brightly. “Everything’s gonna be okay. It’ll be fine.”

None of them acknowledged the hidden, distant expectation to turn and see someone wearing a bowler hat behind them. Roman’s grip tightened on his sword, and he took in another even breath.

“It’ll be a long night,” Logan said, and pushed his hair out of his face again. “Let’s get to editing.”


End file.
